The Great Tensor Definition Showdown

Looking at this code is like finding ancient hieroglyphics written by a mathematician who was simultaneously having a stroke and an existential crisis. The poor soul tasked with porting this Pascal monstrosity will need a PhD in numerical methods, a bottle of strong whiskey, and possibly an exorcist. What we're witnessing here is some unholy signal processing algorithm with nested loops, mysterious polynomial calculations, and variables named with the creativity of someone who ran out of coffee three days ago. The comments? Non-existent. Documentation? A joke. The only thing more terrifying than reading this code is having to maintain it. Whoever wrote this clearly subscribed to the "job security through obscurity" design pattern. Future archaeologists will carbon-date this Pascal code and conclude our civilization deserved its downfall.

HONEY, PLEASE! Haskell programmers standing in front of their conspiracy theory walls trying to convince you that monads are "just like burritos" and pure functions are "totally intuitive." Meanwhile, the rest of us are over here writing loops that actually DO something instead of contemplating the philosophical implications of lazy evaluation for eight hours. The mathematical purity is KILLING me! 💀

The classic number base paradox strikes again! The alien sees 10 rocks and says "10 rocks" in base 4 (which equals 4 in decimal). The astronaut assumes base 10 and gets confused. But here's the kicker: no matter what base you're using, you always represent it as "base 10" in that base . In base 4, the number 4 is written as "10". In base 16 (hex), the number 16 is written as "10". In binary, the number 2 is written as "10". Every civilization thinks they're using "base 10" because that's literally how you write the base number in that base. It's like asking "What is base 4?" and the answer is always "base 10" from that base's perspective. The real galaxy brain moment: when you realize that if aliens showed up and said they use "base 10", we'd have absolutely no idea what they actually mean without seeing them count first. Could be binary for all we know.

OH MY GOD, the EXISTENTIAL CRISIS every CS student faces when they realize their degree is basically just fancy math with extra steps! 😱 You sign up thinking you'll be hacking mainframes and creating the next Facebook, but SURPRISE! It's just calculus and discrete mathematics wearing a trench coat! The cosmic horror of discovering that the cool programming career you dreamed of is actually built on a foundation of mathematical theorems that have been stalking you since high school. And honey, that astronaut with the gun? That's just the senior developers who've accepted this traumatic truth years ago. They're not even sorry about it!

The graph perfectly illustrates the psychological journey of a Lisp programmer who's almost reached enlightenment but remains eternally trapped just below it. Lisp, with its notorious parentheses-heavy syntax ((((like this)))) and powerful functional programming capabilities, creates this weird phenomenon where developers start thinking they're unlocking the secrets of computer science itself. The more time you spend with Lisp, the closer you feel to some grand epiphany—like you're about to crack the cosmic code of programming—but that final breakthrough remains just out of reach. Meanwhile, you're spouting nonsense about understanding the universe while writing code that looks like a keyboard sneezed parentheses everywhere. It's the programming equivalent of climbing Everest, getting 10 feet from the summit, and deciding to set up a philosophy club instead of finishing the climb.

The expectation: "I'll code by intuition and feeling, letting my creativity flow." The reality: Your brain on fire, frantically computing a thousand wrong answers per second while basic math equations mock you from the background. Nothing says "senior developer" like confidently writing 200 lines of code only to be defeated by 5+6=9 . It's not a bug, it's a feature of the human condition.